


Baby in a Box

by FujinoLover



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their biggest undoing came in small package.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby in a Box

 

Three years after the Great War between two Gods, life had been pleasant for everyone. It was not unusual for Shaw to find Root chatting amicably with The Machine (and by an extension, Samaritan, since She had taken Him in as some sort of son) while preparing breakfast. Although on this particular morning, she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Shaw only needed to cock a brow at the taller woman, in lieu of a question.

 

“She had a present for us,” Root supplied as she pushed the plate of scramble eggs and bacon to Shaw across the breakfast bar. “She said we’ll like it.”

 

Such news made Shaw grin as well. “It’s been a long time since we wipe out a whole mob… or blow up a jet.”

 

Root tilted her head to one side, listening to The Machine’s response. “It’s nothing like that. Not a mission.” Her expression soured up a bit, but the smile was still there. “A delivery will arrive at our door right when you finish your breakfast.”

 

At times, Shaw felt like she was the third person in their relationship, having to compete with an all-seeing ominous supercomputer that could predict the future for Root’s attention. However, after the whole taking in Samaritan and Root’s martyr tendency, they had a talk. Shaw and The Machine. Shaw was glad she had put away her indifference of having a real conversation with a machine because she somehow ended up teaching Her—Harold’s A.I. and also Root’s very own God—more about human’s value, and not those Harold had made Her to care for, but the value of one particular person whom had been Her extension in human form. Both of them—Root and The Machine—had been less reckless ever since and it was good enough for Shaw.

 

“It’s here.”

 

Root’s exclamation and the well-timed knock on the door jarred Shaw out of her thought. Just like The Machine had predicted, she had finished her breakfast. After washing the remaining taste with water, she stalked Root down into the living room. The door was just closed and the hacker was holding a cardboard box with both hands. There were holes on its sides, Shaw noted immediately. Whatever was inside needed fresh air, which meant it was alive. Root arrived at the same conclusion too. She lowered the box down onto the floor with extra care.

 

“I was hoping for the latest guns… or explosive.”

 

Root nodded, pouting. “Me too.”

 

There was movement from the box and whatever they had wished for vaporized into thin air. There was no doubt that the thing inside was alive, most possibly a pup because they had discussed about having one before (they loved Bear, but he was monopolized by Harold and John). Shaw expected the poor pup to yip and start scratching if they did not take him out soon, so she went to retrieve the razor blade she had hidden behind the armchair as Root stayed crouching beside the box. It was not sealed properly and with a few flick of her wrist, Shaw had cut off every tape holding the top and bottom parts together. Root got the honor of lifting the lid and both of them were horrified from what they found inside. Big blue eyes blinked back at them innocently.

 

* * *

 

The first time Shaw went to the library with baby-carrier strapped on her front, she almost shot John on the head. Which meant she totally did shoot, but missed the mark (she blamed the baby for slapping her breast at the exact moment, his action distracted her aim). The bullet did nick him on the ear, though. She was sure she would not miss again if he were to give her that little teasing smirk for the second time.

 

“Miss Shaw!” came Harold stern voice and Shaw stared back at him blankly. “Please refrain from using a gun inside the library and with a baby in the vicinity.” For a moment, he looked like he was going to snatch the baby away if not for the carrier securing him to Shaw’s body. “Why are _you_ bringing a _baby_?”

 

Shaw shrugged as she tucked her gun back to its holster on her belt. “That’s what I wanna find out.”

 

“Did Miss Groves kidnap him?”

 

The accusation made Shaw’s hand twitch for her gun again. Even after all these years, after the countless rescue missions Root did, Harold still thought the worst of her. If not for John appearing on Harold’s side, a hand squeezing his stiff shoulder as a quiet reprimand (while the other holding a handkerchief on the new wound on his ear), Shaw would have given him a warning fire too.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harold apologized softly. Redness tinted his cheeks; he was truly embarrassed for his unfounded claim. “It was uncalled for.”

 

It would not be so troubling and Shaw would not even go to Harold if Root had not, in fact, flee their apartment after the second delivery came around. Baby formula, bottles, and a couple of pacifiers had driven her away. Shaw would have gone after her if not for the baby clinging to her blouse. The third delivery arrived afterwards, tiny clothes and diapers. Shaw had only waited until the fourth one—the sling and baby-carrier she was currently using—before she bolted out of the apartment as well. She had to walk all the way to the library with a baby strapped to her chest and ignoring the odd fond look people were giving her. She just could not stay longer for a car-seat, because she feared a crib would be next, and she did not know what to do with that. Not without Root right there with her.

 

Eventually, Shaw nodded an acceptance to the apology in Root’s behalf. She would make them talk later, locked them in a room or something, when they did not have a more pressing matter at hands. “Root mentioned about a present from The Machine.”

 

John clearly looked uneasy from the admission. “Do you think…” he trailed off, knowing the other two adults in the room could patch the rest of his question.

 

Harold massaged his forehead with one hand as he heaved a sigh. “If this is all Her doing,” at least he had come to term with using the pronoun Root had coined in years ago, “then we won’t find anything helpful at all… Does he at least have a name?”

 

“John Doe is listed on his fake birth certificate.” Shaw looked down at the tuft of blonde hair resting on her chest; apparently the baby had fallen asleep, soothed by her voice. “He came in a box.”

 

John and Harold shared the same appalled look, just like Root and Shaw’s when they first discovered the blue-eyed baby. Harold then went to work, burying himself amongst the drivers and screens they had set up in the library. Shaw stayed in when later on John went to her apartment to retrieve the rest of the deliveries. For what appeared to be six-month old at most, the baby required more things than John and Shaw combined.

 

* * *

 

The whole day was a bust. As they had assumed, there was no record of the baby or any track of where he might come from. The birth parents simply did not exist. The delivery company was told to pick the sealed box from an address—which John found as an empty house, the elderly owners were on a trip to England since a week before and would not come back for another week—and was told that it was to be delivered straight away and treated with utter caution because it was a puppy. Nobody had suspected a baby was in it. They thought it was a miracle he was not uncovered faster, that would surely cause a havoc reeked with human trafficking. It was easier to think about that rather than the possibility of someone, under The Machine’s order, had drugged the baby to pacify him.

 

Shaw came home to an empty apartment. She was too tired to think about it, though, having spent the day on her feet. She felt relieved to not find any baby crib waiting outside the door. Moving methodically, she first bathed the baby—in the sink! She was very thankful they had moved out of her old apartment, where the kitchen were just there for the sake of being there—before taking a quick shower herself. She had put him back in the box and left it on the bathroom floor so she could still keep an eye on him. She could not help but think that it would be nice to have Root around for the nth time that day.

 

They had just settled on the blanket Shaw put on the floor beside the bed when Root made her way inside the bedroom. She furrowed her brows when her eyes met Shaw’s through the dim light, but did not ask anything and went to change her clothes in the bathroom. Between them, Shaw was the one with medical degree and obviously more experience in handling babies. It was easy for her because they either cry or sleep and when they cry, she only had to find the source of discomfort, which was even easier because it ranged from hunger to wet diaper. Root, on the other hand, was just awkward in facing anything between infant to toddler. Adults were easier to hack. They felt, they craved, they talked it out. They did not babble nonsense or throwing illogical, out of nowhere tantrum unless they were damaged on the head.

 

“You can sleep on the bed,” Shaw said after she noticed Root standing for far too long on the bathroom doorway, looking uncertain of what she should do next. “He can’t. SIDS. Just remember not to step on us in the morning.”

 

The Machine, which had been silent ever since Root bolted out of the apartment, suddenly buzzed the information in her ear. The prevalence of death when babies shared bed with the parents and the reasons adult’s mattress did not suit babies. Root ignored Her, concentrating more on Shaw and the apprehensive look she sent her way. It made her feel guilty for leaving, but she was not sorry for doing it—for preserving herself, either and she knew apology was not what Shaw was waiting from her. With a defeated sigh, Root took her pillow and dragged a quilt with her before settling on the other side of the baby.

 

“Harold can’t find anything about him,” Shaw declared without preamble, “He suggested we bring him to Social Services.”

 

“No,” Root answered even before Shaw was able to finish her sentence. “We’re not giving him to _them_ ,” she stated in finality.

 

Root had spoken with dripping animosity that left Shaw wondering if she had a bad run with the agency. Shaw did not like them either. She had heard enough about kids being juggled between foster homes, not to mention the abuse—emotional and sometimes physical—they had to endure. She could only imagine how hard it must be and she truly did not wish it for the little guy. They just had to search harder.

 

“Then we won’t,” Shaw said, nodding her head at the baby boy sleeping between them. “We’ll keep him with us until we find his parents.”

 

Root said nothing. The next morning, a crib was delivered to their door.

 

* * *

 

Root volunteered to set up the crib. The work did not stop on screwing the wood pieces together, though. It extended into renovating the spare room into a nursery. Root did great job in getting them ready within a day, but it was of course because she had three helpers with her. They had painted the room in light green. Daniel, obviously with Root’s blessing, filled one wall with binary codes. Jason did the opposite one, but with motherboard’s circuits. Daizo fussed over the placement of everything inside while Root installed the mobile—stuffed black tanks and cute green grenades.

 

“This looks permanent,” Shaw commented later, after the little guy and she had come back from the library.

 

Root knew at once that she did not mean the crib or the nursery as whole. “We can always redecorate it back.”

 

Shaw took the chance to dump the baby in Root’s arms. The hacker shuffled him in panic until she managed to hold him somewhat comfortably. Shaw grinned at how awkward yet lovely Root looked at the moment. She was aware that it was the very first time for Root to hold him; she had always sneaked out of the holding duty, even though she did change his diaper that morning.

 

“It’s your turn to feed him.”

 

Root quirked an eyebrow, still stiffly holding the baby in fear of dropping him. “I don’t know we set a schedule already.”

 

“We don’t, but I need to take a shower.” Shaw sniffed herself. She had gone to a short mission with John today—the baby had stayed with Harold—and she smelt awful from the sweat. “I’m not going to leave the little guy in a box again.”

 

Root accepted the reason, albeit forlornly. After he finished his bottle, she was swaying him whilst humming a song she recalled her mother used to hum to her. That was how Shaw found them in the bedroom after she finished her shower. Root was cradling the baby with better ease than the first time and if Shaw found it fascinating before, she was thoroughly enthralled now, because Root was smiling. All genuine and soft and motherly and with no hint of craziness twinkling behind her eyes. Shaw had come up to her then, wrapping her arms around them from behind. She could not see the baby due to her height, but she was content with resting her head on Root’s upper back as she swayed along with her. It was like a slow dance.

 

“We can’t keep calling him ‘little guy’.”

 

Shaw pulled back slightly, the ends of Root’s hair tickling her cheek. “I’m not calling him ‘John’,” she deadpanned.

 

“Me neither.” Root chuckled. “You should pick a name for him.”

 

They had stopped swaying. Shaw shifted so she was pressed on Root’s side, her hand idly playing with the baby’s blonde strands as she thought about it. “Joss,” she proposed after a long silence. Because no matter how many years had passed, Carter would never be forgotten by any of the team. “Joss Groves?” She stared at Root, asking for permission.

 

“Joss Groves _does_ sound better than Joss Shaw,” Root teased.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she separated herself from them. Prolonged human contact which was not hand-to-hand combat or sex was hard to tolerate, even though she did get better throughout the years. “He can keep your name, you’ll keep mine.” She groaned when her tired brain finally caught up with what her mouth had spilled without filter.

 

“Did you just—“

 

“Shut up and let’s sleep, _now_.”

 

They slept on the floor again that night, in order to let the nursery lose its smell of new furniture and fresh paint. On the next night, they were back on their bed while Joss stayed in his new crib on the next room. Shaw remembered about the lack of baby monitor, but was too exhausted to actually ask Root about it. She fell asleep even before her head touched the pillow. It did not come to her mind again until she was awoken a couple hours after midnight to Root groaning and slipping out from the bed.

 

“Where are you goin’?”

 

“Joss,” Root grunted, instinctively touching her implant as she trudged away from their bed, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

 

Shaw burst out laughing then. Apparently, The Machine had patched the feds She gathered in the nursery straight to Root’s implant. With a supercomputer monitoring them all the time, they did not need any baby monitors after all.

 

* * *

 

Root was feeding Joss strained banana when Shaw unceremoniously dropped something on the table across them. She then skipped to the fridge, looking for beer. Root stared at the glinting jewelry with furrowed brows; it stayed like that as she turned to look at her partner, who was chugging down the cold beer as if she had not drunk any for days. She did, actually. It had been two weeks since Joss arrived and they still had no leads and even Harold had given up.

 

“It’s easier for married couple to adopt.”

 

“And this is you proposing?” Root tried to seem annoyed, but the small upward tug on the corner of her lips betrayed her true intention.

 

Shaw shrugged. “Never one for grand gesture.”

 

“I can forge our marriage certificate,” Root pointed out as she stole a glance at Joss, whom was contently playing with his bib. He was very well-manner and not fussy for a six-month old. “And birth certificate with us as his legal adoptive parents, too.”

 

“Fine,” Shaw grumbled, slamming her empty bottle on the kitchen bar. “My bad for wanting it to be legal for once.”

 

Before the disgruntled Shaw could take the ring back, Root had snatched it off. Whatever retort she was going to give had died once she got a good look at the ring. “Is this...”

 

“The bullet I shot you with.”

 

It was a simple silver band, but with brass bullet head as crown. Root remembered it being dug out of her shoulder. She studied it for another second before slipping it on her left ring finger, turning the unique crown to face inside. Shaw took it as a fair acceptance for her non-romantic proposal. Their conversation ended there. The topic did not get brought up again until later that day; The Machine gathered the team, plus Bear, Fusco, Gen, and even Claire, in the library.

 

“What are you guys doing here?” Shaw’s posture instantly stiffened in alert. Root and she had just brought Joss for a walk in the park (young couple with a baby in stroller was the perfect cover for stalking; they realized it from the first time they brought Joss out). “We have another number?”

 

“She told us you have new crucial information you’d like to share with us, Miss Groves.”

 

“Oh, that,” Root straightened up with Joss in her arms, “It’s Mrs. Shaw now, Harold. We kind of get married today.”

 

Gen was the first to squeal, jumping to hug a reluctant Shaw, followed by Daizo to Root. Bear was happy by default since all of his favorite persons were there with him. The rest of the team was not as pleased, though. It took a lot of explanation (“I thought I’m your best man,” John sulked at Shaw because she had pulled a complete stranger to be their witness instead of him) and apology for no prior notice since they just happened to pass the City Clerk's office building on their way to deal with the number earlier that day (although Root suspected The Machine had led them there on purpose).

 

When every fuss had settled and champagne dispersed (juice for Gen and Joss and milk for Bear), The Machine instructed Root and Shaw with a new number. It was pretty much a wedding gift, burning down a ship that was responsible for drugs smuggling. They also found out that having sex on a rocking speedboat, in the middle of the sea, at night, would be their favorite for a very long time.

 

* * *

  **Extra**

 

“Okaa-san?” Three-year old Joss Groves called, his voice wavered in fear.

 

 _Okaa-san_ , because of Daizo. Because leaving Daizo as the primary sitter meant Joss would (did!) learn Japanese from him. Thus Root was ‘Okaa-san’ and Shaw was ‘Mum’. He refused to take on another language; no matter how many times Shaw tried to teach him Farsi. His language expertise was not their primary concern at the moment, though. Joss had unfortunately caught them in a rather compromising position. It would have been easier if they were, in fact, naked and having sex. Except that they weren’t, _yet_.

 

Root tugged on her binds fruitlessly, the zip-ties held her arms in place. She was barely aware of the little fresh cuts on the side of her neck. Shaw did not fare any better with blood smearing her lips and knife on her hand. Joss stared back at them, blue eyes wide and teary—no doubt from nightmare—before he broke into an ear-piercing wail.

 

“Sh—“ Shaw cut herself off from cursing, “Shameonyourcow!”

 

Root would have teased her for watching _Mulan_ one too many times and how it was supposed to be ‘dishonor’ instead of ‘shame’, if not for Joss’ screech jamming her brain. “Shaw, cut me loose!” She commanded in haste.

 

Noticing the bloody knife aiming for his mother’s wrists by his other mother, Joss cried harder. It was only after Root swooped him up then bounced him on her hip that he calmed down a bit. He hurled his favorite teddy bear—one he always clutched to sleep—at Shaw when she took a step closer to them, calling her as ‘mean’ and ‘vampire’ between hiccups. It was so much harder to explain to a three-year old that _no, Mum is not trying to kill Okaa-san_ and _Okaa-san actually really really likes it_ and _Mum is not a vampire_ ( _although it will make her a very hot vampire_ , Root had chimed in and Shaw would have kicked her ass if not for Joss glaring—oh he did it so well lately—at her). By the end, they swore to never have sex when he was in the same building, ever again.

 


End file.
